A Different Kind of Magic--UNDERGOING EDIT

I hope you enjoy this chapter and it will answer some of your questions about the Prophecy. Please review! I'm dying here folks! I see the hit counter spiking but I would love to know if you love it, hate it, is it weird, what would you change, add etc. Like Nike, just do it! The next chapter will be a couple of days as I decided to re-tool it to add in some juicy sub-plot. Thanks my loyal readers and reviewers!!! Mwah!!


Chapter 34- The Prophecy

Hermione fretted over the continued absence and lack of progress at finding any leads in the disappearance of her friends. Minerva assured her they were doing everything possible to find them. Harry had heard nothing from his questioning. There was no trace of rumor that surfaced in Hagrid’s dealings along Knockturn Alley. After three weeks, she was already beginning to lose hope.

Hermione was given the parchment concerning Minerva’s theory on this Prophecy. McGonagall believed it was the driving force behind the attacks on the various medical facilities. She felt that someone else was fingering the governmental strings from behind the scenes. It was fascinating work, just the thing to take her mind off of the lack of progress in other areas.

She had been dying to talk to Rabastan since the previous week’s Order meeting, but he had been unavailable until today. Minerva was having him tend to Remus, wherever they were keeping him, and finish with the final departure of students after end of year exams. The Headmistress had decided it best to let the others concentrate on their search for Severus and Teddy, while Rabastan and Hermione worked on decoding the Prophecy scroll. She had left the explaining of it all up to Professor Lestrange.

Hermione jumped when the imposing figure appeared via the Library Floo at their appointed time. He looked as roughly regal and commanding as ever. His hardened gaze scanned the room before falling on the young woman at a low table in front of the settee. She could have sworn his gaze softened a bit when he strode over to join her.

“I expect you want to get right down to business.”

“Yes sir, but can you tell me how Remus is doing first?”

“Very well. Professor Lupin has suffered a mental breakdown and will be –indisposed- until further notice. He has been transferred to St. Mungo’s psychiatric ward for evaluation and treatment. They expect he’ll make a full recovery providing his son is found.”

“And if Teddy isn’t found?”

Rabastan shrugged. “He may never quite be the same. It would certainly be inappropriate for him to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts next year, if his situation does not stabilize.”

She bit her lower lip and nodded, conceding inwardly that he was getting the help he so desperately needed.

“Right. Now tell me everything you know about this Prophecy. I recognize the language, but the myth will tell me how to approach deciphering the message it contains. I am very well read, yet I’ve never heard of this particular legend.”

“Well,” he began, “after the fall of the Dark Lord, things seemed to be evening out in the wizarding world. The balance of power had been righted and the Dark driven out, or so everyone thought. The problem with this is the side of Light never fails to let their guard down, and that is why evil was able to creep back in so quickly. While everyone was busy celebrating, Aurors were bringing in various artifacts the Dark Lord had collected and secreted away in the lower levels of several Death Eaters estates, as far as I know. It’s third hand information.” He paused before adding, “My own family home was looted and destroyed as well.”


A chill ran through Hermione. The man sitting before her had also been a spy of Dumbledore’s that they had not been aware of. He had had his own personal reasons for spying for the Light, but whatever they were, he kept them private for the time being. She imagined him in a Death Eater cloak with the silver mask over his face. He was imposing enough sitting benignly before her in Slytherin silver and green. He must have been terrifying at the foot of Voldemort.

“One such secret wormed its way into the hands of our illustrious Minister Shacklebolt. It’s possessed him. Since I’ve been instated at Hogwarts, I’ve seen him consumed by the parchment. At first, I didn’t know what it was. He was careless, in the beginning, when I was in the same room, but never let me near it. Umbridge didn’t trust me and eventually locked me out of the room when they had their little meetings in the presence of the parchment.”

Molly Weasley knocked on the door and came in with a tea service. He resumed when she had gone.

“I eavesdropped one night when Umbridge had assumed I’d gone for the night. I had forgotten some tests I’d been grading that needed to be handed back the following morning.”

He paused to sip his tea, remembering. “Umbridge told Shacklebolt that the parchment was a Prophecy called ‘Oraculum of Cruor’, or Blood Prophecy.”

“That’s Latin!” Hermione said excitedly.

“Yes, that’s what I thought. I know four languages, but regrettably never studied Latin. It was one thing I envied Severus for. He had a gift for languages. Probably could have done a great deal more good than me in that department,” he smiled ruefully.

It surprised Hermione at his admission. Being proficient in four languages was something to brag about, but he never did. He seemed to be full of surprises.

“The first scroll is supposed to contain a clue as to the location of the next and so on. Umbridge surmised there are nine scrolls purported to exist at ancient sites all around Great Britain. Each supposedly gives a piece of a spell, which is to be spoken in the original Latin on Midsummer’s day at dawn. The place she believes this needs to take place is within the rings of Stonehenge. The speaker of the spell and those within in, to a lesser degree, will be imbued with the combined knowledge of some of the great wizarding forefathers of the Isles, whose various names have apparently been lost through the ages.”

Hermione didn’t notice that she had leaned so far forward over the low table her blouse hung open, giving Rabastan an eyeful. He masterfully was able to furtively ogle the succulent curve of her breasts where they disappeared into her creamy lace bra. He nonchalantly shifted his robes to hide his straining erection.

“Where did Umbridge get all this information?”

He shrugged once more, seemingly uninterested. “Who knows? She’s a bit of a swot, not unlike you, rumor has it.”

Hermione took the playful, backhanded insult for what it was.

He continued. “The infusion of this magnificent power is said to be a balance of light and dark. In the wrong hands, it spells a new era worse than the last rise of the Dark Lord. The Order is aware of the Prophecy, of course, and suspects the Ministry is under the coercion of a malign influence trying to unlock the riddle of the scrolls. Since we know this to be true, Minerva and I have deduced that there must be someone behind the scenes working with or controlling Shacklebolt and Umbridge. The supposed uprisings and slaughter of various Death Eater medical patients and staff is a ploy to keep the public and press off balance as to the true nature of the Ministry’s movements.”

“And the real reason Severus and I were targeted to be killed,” she finished for him.

“Yes.”

It was mind-boggling. This threat was possibly worse and potentially more dangerous than the one they had just finished with.

“So you need me to translate this scroll so we can work on finding the second one.”

“Yes.”

“Do you know if the Minister’s administration has had any luck in decoding it?”

“No. The night I spied on their conversation I was able to slip in and get a copy of the scroll, which is what you have in front of you. I was forced to flee when Umbridge became suspicious of being overheard. I fled the facility, but did not completely close her office door behind me. I have not heard a word about the Prophecy since that night.”

“We’re in a race to reach the end of the puzzle first,” she breathed, her face flushed with excitement. She looked up and could have sworn she saw him looking down her blouse. Now self-conscious, she turned a deeper shade of red and sat up straight suddenly. He looked away from her, but his face gave away nothing.

Are all Death Eaters this practiced in hiding their emotions? she wondered to herself. She supposed they had to be, working for the Dark Lord and being under threat of death constantly.

“I am going to need some reference books from the Restricted Section at Hogwarts.”

“Of course. I will bring you whatever you may need for your work.”

“Thank you.” She didn’t know what else to say, then, feeling a bit uncomfortable that he was checking out her goods. It was a bit creepy to think he may have been undressing her the whole time they had been talking. It was also slightly titillating.

“Minerva has asked me to express her concern for your safety. Wherever Severus may have ended up, his disappearance has undoubtedly given away your presence here at the Burrow. While this location is Secret-Kept, the grounds are not safe for you to wander outside of those bounds. She has asked that you remain within the dwelling during your stay.”

“That is a very sensible precaution. Tell her not to worry. I promise to behave.”

He gave her a genuine smile. “Minerva tells me that you can be a bit, shall we say, unpredictable.”

She opened her mouth to protest and he stopped her.

“I will assure her of your desire to abide by her wishes. I have been told to, ‘keep an eye on you’, to use her quote.”

Hermione shot him an indignant stare. “I don’t need a babysitter, thanks-very-much.” She tossed her long, wavy braid over her other shoulder. With the use of charms, since the removal of the bandages, no one could tell there were any fuzzy patches only starting to grow back.

“I am aware of this, Miss Granger. It is only a precaution.”

“I see. Well, thank you for filling me in. You’ve been an immense help. Now I know how to approach my research and translation efforts.”

“I will return with the books you need.”

“Can you do me a favor?”

“Of course.”

“Can you brew me a hair-growing potion?”

“It would be my pleasure,” smirked Rabastan as he rose from his seat, indicating it was time for his departure from present company.

“Thank you! I hate wasting my magic on glamours.”

“I do not think you need glamours to appear beautiful. You are lovely without them, I am sure.”

She didn’t know quite what to say about that, so she let it slide. “Uh, thanks for everything, then.”

“The pleasure is all mine.” With liquid grace he lifted her hand to his lips and pressed them to the back of her fingers, lingering a bit too long for her liking. He released her then, and with the trademark flourish, threw the Floo powder into the air with a thunderous proclamation of “Hogwarts Headmistress’ Office!”

She could have sworn he had just made a pass at her.


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